Devil's Advocate
by ruripan
Summary: A kingdom has succumbed to misfortune, and the appearance of a mysterious figure called the Diablo has been blamed for it. But when the prince visits him in his captivity, the two strike an exceptional deal...and things start changing. Sieghart x Dio.
1. Procrastination is the thief of time

A/N: Good day, Chasers. I'm from GCPH; if you can find out my IGN, kudos to you. That being said, certain places and terms may be different from other servers, so please bear with those minor discrepancies for this fic.

Before reading any further, if you don't like yaoi -or don't know what it is, for that matter-, kindly step out of this page. This might not be your cup of tea.

This fanfic is also going to be serious; it's my first attempt at any GC fanfic. It doesn't take place in the canon-verse but I've borrowed the characters and some places for this story. This was also partially inspired by a certain TV series; if you can guess what that is, I think I will love you~

By the way, I've been roleplaying for several months and have stopped writing prose during that time, so my style may be somewhat still reminiscent of that. I'd appreciate any review whatsoever.

Disclaimer: Grand Chase belongs to KOG, not to me. If I owned it, certain…interesting things would happen.

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><p>When he heard that the Diablo had been captured, he couldn't believe his ears. Not because he had deemed it incredible, but because he thought that the whole notion of capturing him was downright impossible. After all, the Diablo was considered a myth of sorts; a superstition made by some of the old women in the village, perhaps to explain the centuries of misfortune that seemed to have plagued the kingdom. In the past years, the kingdom had had its share of diseases and droughts, famine and pestilence, and had even had the misfortune of having a basilisk attack one of the towns, as rare as those would be. As a result, Kanavan, once a prosperous kingdom, had been reduced to one ravaged by poverty and unrest. Many had left, and those who remained only did so because there was nowhere else to live.<p>

No one knew why Kanavan had been hit so bad. The other kingdoms had largely been unaffected; if anything, they seemed more prosperous than they had ever been. Some blamed Kanavan's queen and its ever-incompetent crown prince, but there were others who preferred to attribute such misfortune to supernatural means. And that was when the legend of the Diablo came out.

The raven-haired man stretched his legs to rest on the windowsill. The window was in view, but from what he could see from his chair, the party had yet to reach the inner courtyard. He had heard the news of the capture from one of the maidservants; apparently, everyone was excited to see who this Diablo really was. After all, no one knew exactly what he looked like. Some spoke of fangs and fire-red eyes, others of horns and claws, but all who had seen him would agree that he always wore a dark hooded cloak. The Diablo would often be spotted wandering the streets of Kanavan; here in one street, gone in the next. Most notably, whenever something bad or strange happened, he would be around, tucked in a shadowy corner, always watching. Or so they said. He had become something of an urban legend; a tale to scare the children into obeying their parents, and a silent warning to adults not to stay out of their houses late into the night.

This mysterious person aroused Sieghart's interest, but certainly not enough to make him follow the others into the courtyard. Instead, he had opted to remain in his room, simply making sure that he had a clear view of the castle entrance below. Already, he could see a small crowd of servants huddled together, whispering.

Sieghart rolled his eyes, averting them momentarily before fixing his gaze onto the window again. "What's the big deal, anyway?" he murmured to no one in particular, closing one eye. Sure, he was the crown prince of Kanavan, but people didn't seem to respect him enough to mind that he sometimes _wasn't_ there. He knew it was his fault, since he'd often opt to sit important events out -he doubted that everyone in Kanavan even _knew_ how he looked like- but it was just that things around the kingdom were dull enough that he'd prefer to sleep instead. Probably the closest thing to interesting was this Diablo phenomenon that had the whole kingdom in an uproar.

From the corner of his vision, Sieghart spotted a group of riders entering the gate. The knights of Kanavan had just returned from their mission, and as if to highlight that fact, in between two white horses, a hooded figure trudged along, his hands chained together by a pair of manacles. From his vantage, Sieghart couldn't see anything besides his cloak. His figure was bent, and it seemed like he was keen to not allow his face to be seen by anyone. Was it really that...shocking? He straightened from his seat, attempting to peer down into the courtyard below in order to get a better view. Still nothing.

_' How pointless.'_ Sieghart snorted, resting his chin on a hand. All this waiting had evidently amounted to absolutely nothing in the end. That was why most of the time, he wouldn't even _bother _trying to do anything in the first place. Hence, that earned him a notorious reputation for being a lazy prince. Sieghart knew, however, that if push came to shove, he'd step up and show his subjects that he _was_ a leader fit to rule Kanavan one day. Probably.

But inspite of his general attitude towards everything else, there was just something about this Diablo that piqued his interest. He didn't know what it was exactly; maybe it was the fact that he was such a big deal in Kanavan -even a bigger deal than he himself was, though Sieghart would be the last person to admit that-, or maybe because he was just a walking mystery. Whatever it was, he had to find out who this person really was.

Sieghart let one gray eye drift towards the hooded figure again. The party had reached the main entrance now, allowing the servants who had gathered there to momentary flock towards the figure, eager to take a look. Now that the Diablo had been chained, there was nothing else to fear. But his escorts had quickly nudged their horses to block their captive, barking orders to steer clear from him as the party made their entrance to the castle.

At this rate, if he simply remained in his room, he knew wasn't going to solve this little mystery. The knights had already disappeared from view as they entered the castle, the prisoner in tow. If he didn't hurry, the Diablo would probably be dead by the time he got there.

After all Sieghart _did_ take his time, even when he said he'd hurry.

Having formed a decision, the prince tore his eyes away from the window and stood, clipping his claymore onto his belt as he made for the door.

'_That's it. I have to see for myself_.'

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><p>Even back home, he had never known this kind of darkness.<p>

He lifted his arm. The jingle of chain links bumping against one another echoed throughout the empty space around him, bouncing off the dank walls of his cell. The ceiling dripped with cold water from yesterday's rain shower. It was too dark to see anything else, but he was at least certain that the cell hadn't been kept tidy for some now. He had accidentally brushed his fingertips against the stone floor when they had thrown him inside; now, rubbing his thumb and index finger together thoughtfully, he probably knew why. There was no need to clean up a cell whose occupant was to die the next day.

The hooded figure sighed, leaning back against the wall. Honestly, he had no idea why he was here in the first place. This morning, he had heard that some kind of monster had appeared on the frontiers of the Forsaken Barrows, and he had thought to investigate. He was almost certain that it was his ticket back home, and even if he was a wanted man, he was willing to take that risk if it meant getting back to where he needed to be. But for some reason, he had been caught; caught just when he had been about to make his escape, because someone had apparently seen him when he had arrived there and had made it a point to report it to one of the Kanavan knights.

The prisoner shook his head. Well, he knew it was bound to happen, anyway. He'd been around for about 200 years, and he had made it a point to visit places where mysterious things occurred. Over the years, he had formed a hypothesis that the way back home involved some kind of magical mean. Because of that, he had taken it upon himself to investigate those happenings to see if they had anything to do with him. So far, he had had no luck. Worse, it had even led the locals to think that he was behind all this –if what he had surmised from the hearings earlier were correct.

A stray droplet landed on his cheek. Reaching up with his chained arm, he wiped it away with the back of his hand. How had all this happened, anyway? One day he had been cleaning up the mess some renegades had made, and the next thing he knew, he was here in some unknown dimension with no way back home. Sometimes he wondered that if he simply died, he'd just go back to that other dimension where he belonged. That was why the thought of death didn't terrify him as much as it would other people.

He scratched his cheek absently. Although, now that he had had the chance to mull over the thought, it didn't seem fair to have him die for something he didn't even do. He simply happened to be in certain places at the wrong time.

And who the hell was the Diablo, anyway? For heaven's sake, he had a name, and apparently, no one had bothered to ask even when he had been presented before Kanavan's queen.

"Humans and their justice," a soft tenor voice spoke up, slightly irritated by the whole affair. If he could just _see_ something, he'd probably have broken out of here a long time ago.

The sound of footsteps and voices echoing on the corridor shifted his attention suddenly, his keen ears picking up the sounds even before he had seen the faintest glimmer of a torchlight.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Your Highness." He immediately recognized that voice. It belonged to one of the guards who had thrown him in after his hearing before the queen.

A short laugh followed. "Thought I had to swing by before the big day tomorrow. He's here, isn't he?"

"Yes, milord. We're guarding him under lock and key."

"A little too much, don't you think? Has he been proven guilty?"

By this time, the light had flooded into the cell, allowing him to see his surroundings clearly. White spots dotted his vision, momentarily blinding him. He blinked several times to adjust to the , a thousand possibilities raced through his head. Should he break the manacles and force open the lock? Hide in the dark and assault whoever was going to open the cell's door? Or just—

"Ah, here we are, Your Highness. Be careful; they say he's dangerous."

It was probably too late to try anything.

"I'll be fine. Give me the torch and go back to your post. I'll speak with him for a bit."

"Very well, sir. Please call me if something happens."

The hooded figure bowed his head, keenly aware of the sound of the door's heavy locks being undone. His ears twitched, he clenched his hands –was he going to try it after all? He had originally thought that he'd be up against two (possibly armed) people, but judging from the conversation earlier, there was only one person out there who was undoing the locks.

After what seemed like eternity, there was silence. He was afraid to move, aware that the slightest shake would cause his chains to make a noise that would immediately alert his visitor, and he would probably call the guard's attention. He took a deep breath.

"Relax, I won't do anything,"

He didn't reply. What was he supposed to say to that? At the corner of his eye, he could see the glint of metal from the person's hip, presumably a sword. In fact, this person seemed very capable of doing absolutely _anything_.

"So you're the Diablo?"

This time, he snorted and narrowed his eyes beneath his hood. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His visitor paused for a moment, as if to recollect his thoughts. He, on the other hand, had refused to look at the man's face, preferring instead to focus his attention on the sword. At this moment, one hand was rested on the hilt. He was waiting for an opportunity for it to stray from there, so that he could spring some kind of surprise attack. How long was this person going to stay here, anyway?

"Well then, what's your name?"

The question sent a jolt through his train of thought. His name. Someone had asked his name. It had been so long since he had introduced himself to anyone –200 years in fact-, that somehow, his name sounded foreign even to his mind, let alone his lips. And now, on the eve of his execution, someone had bothered to ask who he was.

Who was this person?

Slowly, amethyst eyes rose to meet gray.

"Dio."

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><p>AN: This chapter kind of sets the backdrop, so I'm afraid it's really uneventful. Hopefully, we can get on with the plot in the next chapter. I've yet to write it.

Thank you for reading~ Reviews would be appreciated and would actually inspire me to write.


	2. Opportunity seldom knocks twice

A/N: Good day, Chasers. GCPH's weekly updates have been relatively uninteresting, so I've decided to go on a hiatus there until we get Dio.

Looking through the fanfics here in the GC section, I just realized that there's not much slashfics out here. Yeah. People should definitely write more of them.

For this chapter, my muse kind of went on a vacation. Well, this fanfic is gonna be long, so expect their relationship to be not as instant.

Disclaimer: Grand Chase belongs to KOG.

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><p>Even as the crown prince, Sieghart did not usually pay a visit to the castle dungeons.<p>

Usually.

That was why as he descended the stairs and followed the guard, squinting further into the darkness, he wondered again why this instance was one of those exceptions. The dungeons were dark and musty; the castle servants never bothered to clean it, and the prisoners were mostly crass with whoever came to visit. Especially if it were someone like him. Sieghart shrugged. He had to admit, because he was royalty and the prisoners in the castle dungeons were there because the queen had, in some way, considered them a threat to Kanavan, the prisoners would often spit threats onto him. Most of them really did, sometimes literally, much to his disgust.

Under these conditions, normally, Sieghart would not have even bothered to walk into the dungeon, let alone _speak_ with one of the prisoners. He had had enough of that after the last one had nearly choked him through the grills of the prison cell, and the guard with him had been forced to put an early end to that prisoner's life. He didn't even get the chance to find out why the guy was in there in the first place –although after that incident, he could pretty guess why.

Which is why this time, even though he was bold enough to open the cell and let himself in, he had also brought his sword with him -clipped to his belt, sharpened last week, and polished by hand. That had taken him a lot of effort to do because he had no manservant, and to be honest, he was reluctant to use it. He'd rather not, really.

When he had undone the locks and had let his torch's light flood into the dark cell, all he could see was the familiar brown hood he had spotted from afar back from his room. The prisoner's face was shrouded in darkness, even as Sieghart held the torch lower towards his face. Unless he would make some more idle talk, there wasn't going to be a chance to actually know more about this person, and why he was here. Or at the very least, know what he actually looked like.

"Well then, what's your name?"

'_He must _have_ one,'_ Sieghart thought to himself, judging from the way he had reacted to the Diablo question. Of course: that term had only been coined by the locals, and no one had actually gotten the chance to talk to him to know his name. The fact that he was going to be the first one –and probably the last one- to do so somehow gave him both a triumphant –and at the same time strange—feeling.

"Dio."

Sieghart almost blinked. From under his hood, the prisoner was looking at him in the eye –something commoners, let alone prisoners, were not supposed to do. There was something behind those violet eyes that said that this person had something more than meets the eye. Perhaps this one was different from the rest who had ended up here before.

Sieghart let out a short laugh. To his amusement, Dio's eyes narrowed, and he had brought up his arms to cross over his chest. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," The raven-haired man answered, leaning sideways against the door, "Just that I never thought you actually had a name. They always said you were a myth."

Dio didn't answer; he merely looked crossed at the idea that most of the people had thought he was nonexistent. He should've known that by now, Sieghart thought, especially since if rumors were true, he had been around for a few hundred years. It was impossible not to notice that people were whispering about you.

"I didn't think you were real either," he added as an afterthought when he realized that his previous words had not elicited a reaction. The smallest hint of a smirk crept up to his lips. "You were somewhat sketchy."

There was a jingle of chains; Dio's arms had moved again, only to rest his chin on a hand. He glared from under his hood. "Well, I'm sorry for that."

To be honest, Sieghart thought that he didn't seem the type to end up down here in the dungeons. Sure, he was cheeky –not to mention, he _was_ suspicious-, but other than that, there didn't seem to be anything particularly dangerous about him. If the trial before the queen and the witnesses had proven him guilty beyond any reasonable doubt, then that was the only reason he'd be here.

Then what exactly was he guilty for? Sieghart wanted to know. "Why are you here, anyway?" He ventured, looking at the prisoner. "I've heard you've been roaming the kingdom for centuries, and now you get caught. You could at least have kept it up."

Dio seemed surprised at that comment. "Are you insinuating that I shouldn't even be down here?" he asked cautiously. Sieghart merely shrugged, motioning with his hand that Dio continue. There was a look of skepticism that crossed the other's face before it disappeared quickly. "I don't know," he replied. "ask your queen. I haven't done anything."

"But ever since you've been spotted, you've been seen around monsters. The kind that leaves a lot of people dead. Why is that?"

"I don't think I have to tell you that."

"Even if it could save your life?"

There was a lengthy pause as Dio eyed the prince tentatively, unsure whether divulging his reasons would somehow postpone his execution tomorrow. Sieghart, on his part, had no idea if Dio knew that technically, he had no power to veto the queen's decision. It was the decision of the people after all. But there were other means, and he could certainly arrange for that.

"Well?"

Dio looked down, studying his nails as if mulling the proposition. When Sieghart followed his glance, it was only then that he realized that the man had an unusual…hand. It glowed a faint blue, and instead of fingernails, he had long, black claws that he clenched and unclenched every now and then. Sieghart hadn't noticed it at first because the man had kept it hidden inside his sleeves. Now that it was exposed, he couldn't help but wonder what it was.

"Because I have to—" Dio began, but he was cut off when he noticed that the prince had been staring at his hand for quite some time now. Irritated for his lack of courtesy, he quickly shoved it away from sight.

Sieghart blinked several times upon realizing what had happened, before reverting his attention back to the prisoner. "Wait, what was that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your hand. I saw it. It didn't look like any ordinary hand."

Dio shrugged, and showed him his right hand. Sieghart squinted in the darkness. Even with the poor lighting, Sieghart could tell that it looked exactly the same as his own, and any other human hand for that matter. But he was pretty sure there was something more to it than that.

"What about your other hand?" he asked, motioning for the one that Dio had tucked under his other arm.

The other looked at him disinterestedly. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Just let me see."

Reluctantly, Dio held out his left hand for the prince to look at. Even in the dark, it pulsated with blue light, as if holding some kind of power within it. He had never seen anything like it, and although it looked dangerous, it was, at the same time, fascinating.

"Why do you have something like that?"

There was a pause, and Dio shifted his eyes to the side. "Because I'm not like the rest of you."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I mean." Dio glanced back at him pointedly, as if the answer should be obvious enough. When Sieghart returned a blank expression, he fixed him an exasperated look and shook his head. "That means I'm not human, and I don't belong here –which is why I'm looking for a way to go back where I came from."

Sieghart blinked. If Dio wasn't human, then what was he? The prince had not heard anything about a monster or a beast that was able to hold intelligent conversations like Dio was doing right now. So far, this was his first encounter of this kind. But then, that hand was no ordinary human hand, either. Could Dio be cursed? Could he come from some other race that he had no knowledge of? Or, judging from what he said, could he come from another dimension altogether?

This was getting intriguing. The raven haired man smirked. "You're pretty interesting, aren't you?"

Dio was going to die tomorrow. It was a shame really.

Unless he could do something about it.

Just when Dio opened his mouth to say something, Sieghart crouched so that he was eye level with him. Briefly, the light illuminated the other's face. From this angle, Sieghart could see that Dio's hair was the same as his eye color; a fierce magenta, only his eyes were steely and reflected the fire that kept the room alight. A frown was affixed on his expression, wary that the prince was so near him, but at the same time curious as to wh_y_. His head was slightly tilted to the side, and he slowly closed his mouth that had been agape only a few moments ago.

It was hard to believe this was someone worthy of the death sentence.

Sieghart lowered his voice. "Say, what if I offer you a deal?"

"Why is the crown prince offering me a deal?" Dio replied, narrowing his eyes.

Oh yes. He could almost see it. The answer to both their problems, solved. The prince smiled smugly. "What if I told you I'd help you find a way home?"

"I've been doing that for 200 years. I doubt you can help me."

"Connections and resources, my friend. Don't underestimate them."

Dio seemed to consider that for a moment. Sieghart knew that in 200 years, Dio had most likely tried everything that his own capabilities had afforded him…except maybe for those methods that needed a large amount of money and inside information that only he, one of royalty, would be able to give him. It was advantageous for him, really.

"And in exchange?" Dio, at length, had asked warily.

"Simple, really." There was a glint in his eye. This was going to change everything and for the first time in Sieghart's life, things were finally starting to pick up. "Beginning tomorrow, you become my manservant."

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><p>Dio could not believe that this was actually happening.<p>

Warning bells had sounded all over the city, and even as he was moving stealthily in the shadows, he could hear the metal gates of the castle opening, as well as the sound of hooves thundering past. Torches set the castle alight as orders were being shouted from one guard to the next. From his distance, Dio could not make out what was being said, but he had a pretty good idea of what it was.

Moments ago, the crown prince had offered him a strange proposition that, until now, had still left him puzzled. Dio shook his head. What was the prince thinking? Setting him free, and on top of that, asking him to become his manservant? He crouched low behind a cart full of merchandise as footsteps rumbled past. _'What could be possibly gain from this?" _he mulled. The mere fact that he was royalty meant that he could hire anyone he wanted. Why did the prince even make someone like him such an offer?

Dio continued moving, careful to stay hidden. It was not as if it were difficult; he was used to this already. In the distance, he could see the forest near the outskirts of town. The prince had told him to wait there until tomorrow, and to leave the rest to him. He flattened himself against a wall as a guard walked past. To be honest, Dio knew that he had the choice to simply disappear. But the prince's offer was enticing, and he knew that he had a point. Dio sighed. _'It's not like I can refuse anyway…'_

It made him wonder, though, what had become of the prince. Dio remembered punching him square in the stomach before making a break for it, just as the guard from earlier had rushed in to check on the noises. The prince had said that he'd buy time for Dio to make his getaway –and he did. More than enough for him to slip out of the castle just as the alarm had been sounded.

Sighing, Dio slipped behind one of the trees and buried himself deeper into the forest. He knew this place well; in fact, he knew all the places in Kanavan well enough to hide himself whenever he needed to. As soon as he made distance between himself and the town, he dropped to the forest floor, the leaves softening his landing.

'_First thing's first.'_ Dio stretched out his manacled hands. He had to remove these things. Experimentally, he flexed his left hand, the color eerily accentuated by the moonlight. Dio exhaled. A quick blast of energy from his hand sent the locks flying, the sound of the impact agitating the birds. Dio looked behind his shoulder. He hoped he was far enough for that not to be heard.

The demon leaned his back against a trunk, finally closing his eyes. Tonight had been exhausting.

Now to wait for dawn.

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><p>AN: This update took longer than I expected . I must be losing my touch.

Thank you again for reading and to those who reviewed.~ Kept me on my toes to keep writing this second chapter. As for the suggestion on writing "scenes", well, expect some of that late in the story.


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